


Variance

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Tennis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Inui's racket clatters to the ground, he catches himself with a hand beneath him, and when he lifts his head to look up he finds himself gazing into Kaidou’s face from a much smaller distance than he had anticipated." An unexpected breeze provides a less-than-calculated outcome for Inui and Kaidou's extra practice.
Relationships: Inui Sadaharu/Kaidou Kaoru
Kudos: 13





	Variance

Inui and Kaidou have been on the tennis court for over an hour as the sun sinks to deep gold against the fading blue of the sky. They have the space to themselves—even the dedication of the Seigaku regulars doesn’t bring them to the school grounds on their one day off, and Inui’s extra key to the practice rooms gives them the freedom to make whatever use of the space his calculations deem ideal. Even so, there is a limit to how much training is well-advised, and as their shadows stretch long with the setting sun Inui decides they have reached it and catches Kaidou’s serve against his racket instead of returning it.

“We’ll stop here for the night,” he says as he lifts his hand to catch the tennis ball and lowers his racket to his side as he steps around the net dividing the two halves of the court. “You’ve done a lot of supplementary training already today. Any more and we’ll begin to run the risk of an injury.”

Kaidou ducks his head into a nod of understanding. He’s become far more compliant since Inui began individual training with him, with no sign of the extra workouts he used to add to the specific menu Inui crafted to meet his requests. Inui is glad of that, partially because of the freedom it allows him to push to the other’s limits without worrying about Kaidou forcing himself past them, and also just for the simple pleasure of seeing such respect for the data that Inui has spent months collecting. Inui has details on everyone on the team, of course, and all of their opponents that he has had the chance to see: but there is a different between observing and crafting, between watching and guiding, and with the latter comes a sense of satisfied pride in Kaidou’s clear progress as keen as if it were Inui himself who was winning the matches Kaidou plays.

“Make sure you eat well tonight,” Inui says as he steps past Kaidou to drop the tennis ball into the basket at the far side of the court and lowers his racket to rest against the support of the fence behind it. “Keep your meal balanced between lean protein and carbohydrates.”

“Yeah.” Kaidou has his head ducked when Inui glances back at him, his attention turned to the idle flex of his fingers against the edge of his tennis racket. The knot of his bandana flutters in the breeze that ruffles the dark of his hair against the back of his neck. “I’ve got your instructions written up in the kitchen at home.”

Inui smiles. “That’s good,” he says, and steps away from the basket of tennis balls towards Kaidou still standing in the middle of the court. Kaidou looks up as Inui’s hand touches his shoulder, his face half-shadowed but his eyes bright with focus as he meets Inui’s gaze. His usual intensity is all there, the hunch of his shoulders and the set of his jaw held with the same force that makes him such an imposing figure to the first-years, but Inui has enough data to see the focus for what it is: the desire to succeed coupled with a willingness towards effort that he thinks no one could recognize without appreciating.

“You’ve done very well, Kaidou,” Inui says, speaking gently to suit the careful contact of his hand against Kaidou’s shoulder. Kaidou blinks but doesn’t look away, doesn’t speak to interrupt, and Inui lets his smile go wider as he presses his thumb closer to Kaidou’s shoulder. “My data shows improvement in every category for you. You’re on track to becoming a world-class player.”

Kaidou draws a breath. Inui can hear the force on it as clearly as he can see the flex of Kaidou’s fingers tensing against the racket he’s still bracing between his hands. “Senpai—”

The gust of wind whistles through the trees, pulling against their branches and tearing leaves free as it pours down across the length of the tennis courts. It’s a strong force, enough to blow serves out-of-alignment and catch shearing force at the edge of rackets; Inui lifts an instinctive hand to his glasses as he turns to face the sudden onslaught. Kaidou tips his head to follow Inui’s impulse to turn into the gale, and as the wind drags against his hair it finds purchase against the loose ends of his bandana as the knot tumbles loose. The breeze catches at the cloth, tugging it free of Kaidou’s hair and up into a sudden tumble of green as Kaidou’s reflexive motion to hold it still finds nothing but his windswept hair.

“Ah,” Inui says, and lifts a hand; but the bandana tumbles away from his reaching fingers and over Kaidou’s shoulder. Kaidou pivots to follow, his hand outstretched for the ripple of fabric through the air, and Inui moves with him, the both of them reaching to catch the bandana back from the gust of wind that has caught it. The fabric twists, curling in a sharp, unexpected turn as it falls to catch against the post of the net, and as Inui ducks down to reach for it his fingers meet Kaidou’s, who has flung himself forward with as much speed as if he were lunging to recover a match point from a game. Inui pulls back and looks up but Kaidou flinches faster, recoiling from the contact of Inui’s fingers against his with such force that he overrides his shaky balance and falls sideways onto the court. His racket clatters to the ground, he catches himself with a hand beneath him, and when he lifts his head to look up Inui finds himself gazing into the other’s face from a much shorter distance than he had anticipated.

“Sorry,” Inui says, a little needlessly, and reaches to claim the bandana from where it’s wound around the pole of the tennis net. He huffs a laugh as he offers the fabric back to Kaidou. “I suppose our doubles play still needs some practice.”

Kaidou isn’t looking at the bandana. He isn’t even looking at Inui’s hand as the other reaches out to make an offer of the captured fabric. He’s fallen back against the support of the net at his back, his shoulders dipping against the top line of tension that holds the barrier intact, but he’s not looking at the net either, or at his hand where his fingers have caught to a hold between two of the loops. His gaze is still on Inui, still clinging to the other’s face so close to his own, but the initial wide-eyed shock is gone, now, dissolved into a heavy-lidded attention that shudders straight down the whole length of Inui’s spine. Inui feels his body come into sharp focus, sudden self-consciousness drawing the forward tilt of his shoulders and the open angle of his knees into stark relief against the backdrop of the rest of the world; but it’s his face Kaidou is staring at, and it’s there, at the shape of his mouth and the arch of his cheeks, that Inui feels heat flush dark beneath his skin. Kaidou’s lashes are heavy, the shadowed weight of them dipping to speak to the focus of his attention as clearly as a shout, and Inui’s mouth softens beneath that focus, his easy smile melting to slack surrender as he gazes at Kaidou’s expression.

It feels like they stay there for minutes, frozen a handful of inches apart while conversation and the fallen bandana alike are forgotten in the distraction of their sudden unexpected proximity. Inui is sure it isn’t more than a few seconds, perhaps not even enough for anyone else to notice anything unusual, if they had an audience. But of course there is no one, just the two of them together in the middle of a practice court, and it is just as Inui’s shiver of recognition begins to ease that Kaidou blinks and his gaze begins to clear as it lifts from Inui’s mouth towards the shine of his glasses. Inui can see the heat start to recede, can watch the unrestrained want in the shadow of Kaidou’s gaze retreat before the illumination of sudden, panicked self-consciousness, and he can predict what will come next, from Kaidou’s sharp inhale to the flush of color over his cheeks to the retreating angle of his shoulders as instinct pulls him back. It’s absolute, perfectly predictable, and as Kaidou’s eyes go wide and his lips part on the rush of his inhale Inui lifts his hand to catch the back of Kaidou’s head, and leans in to interrupt his hiss of breath, and stifles the words at Kaidou’s lips with the urging heat of his own.

Inui predicted surprise. He has never before moved to close the distance between himself and the soft pout of Kaidou’s mouth, has never put to action the impulse of want that flickers in answer to the set of Kaidou’s shoulders and the fixed certainty of his gaze, but his predictions suggested shock as a necessity, even if Inui dodges the rejection that his calculations have indicated as less and less likely by the day. But Kaidou exceeds his expectations in this, and the only gesture to surprise Inui finds in him is in that quick inhale as Inui comes in to kiss him. There is a heartbeat of stillness as they come together, as Inui’s lips fit to the soft curve of Kaidou’s; and then Kaidou gives way, his shoulders surrendering him to the support behind him as his chin lifts and his mouth softens to the press of Inui’s. It is Inui who gives in to surprise, who offers a exclamation muffled to wordlessness at the shape of Kaidou’s mouth, and then Kaidou is reaching for Inui’s shoulder, his palm is curling to the back of the other’s neck, and Inui reaches out to wrap his fingers into the tennis net and pulling to draw Kaidou in closer against him.

Kaidou lets himself be pulled in against Inui’s chest and Inui tightens his hold at the back of Kaidou’s hair and draws his knee in closer to tangle his legs with the open sprawl of Kaidou’s. Kaidou’s leg fits between his own, his knee presses against the inside flex of Inui’s thigh, and he makes a sound far in the back of his throat, something soft and dark with heat that shudders down Inui’s spine. Inui’s mouth softens into want, his lips shifting to offer the suggestion of easing, and Kaidou opens his mouth in such ready surrender there can be no question of his consent. Inui leans into the other’s shoulders as the fist he has of the net braces Kaidou in against him, and when he ventures against Kaidou’s mouth Kaidou groans and reaches to clutch at a handful of Inui’s shirt.

It’s not a demand, exactly, just a fist without the pull that would add insistence, but it’s more than enough welcome when Inui has the first taste of Kaidou’s mouth against his tongue. He tips his head to the side, fitting his lips closer to Kaidou’s as he tastes deeper against the other’s mouth, and Kaidou tips his head back and opens his mouth and lets Inui kiss him without the least protest. His fingers flex against Inui’s shirtfront, working out a heartbeat rhythm of encouragement; when Inui slides his fingers deeper into Kaidou’s hair to brace him as he turns his head there is the tentative press of fingers to his hip, a barely-glancing contact like Kaidou is testing the boundaries of Inui’s willingness. Inui eases the pressure against his throat to let some part of the heat in his chest spill up and past his lips, and he doesn’t intend to veer quite so steeply into a moan but Kaidou’s fingers clench reflexively at the hem of his shirt, and that is too exactly the outcome Inui wanted for him to muster any regrets.

Inui had intended no more than a kiss, a gentle press of his mouth to the soft weight of Kaidou’s, no more than a brief taste at the curve of the lips that have drawn his gaze with ever-increasing regularity. But Kaidou doesn’t pull away, doesn’t so much as loosen the fists he has on Inui’s shirt, and Inui finds himself pressing forward instead, rocking in over the support of his knee against the court and dragging with more force at the tennis net to draw Kaidou’s shoulders in against his own. Kaidou’s mouth is open, his lips parted and his head tipped back into willing surrender to whatever use Inui wishes to make of him, and as Inui’s tongue presses deeper past Kaidou’s lips Kaidou’s fingers work at the edge of his shirt to climb up and secure a hold around his back.

Inui shudders when Kaidou’s skin brushes his own, his throat giving up a whimper wholly without his intention at the accidental friction of the other’s little finger touching to the line of his back. Kaidou stiffens against him, his whole body tightening with uncertainty, and Inui slides his hand down Kaidou’s hair to the back of the other’s neck to speak encouragement with the weight of his fingers pressing and dipping beneath the loose neckline of the other’s shirt. Kaidou makes a sound at the back of his throat, something wordless and wanting that pours heat across the work of Inui’s tongue, and when he moves it is with the haste of nervous uncertainty to let go of his hold on Inui’s shirt so he can flatten his palm against the bare skin of the other’s hip instead. Inui arches forward, tipping into the intimacy suggested by the glow of Kaidou’s fingers spreading over his skin, and Kaidou chokes off a groan and tilts his head farther back to offer the heat of his mouth as his tongue shifts beneath Inui’s to respond in overheated kind.

They stay there for some time. Even Inui has no idea how long; all his attention to detail is turned to the give of Kaidou’s lips beneath his, and the taste of Kaidou’s tongue, and the friction of the fingers braced a careful inch beneath the weight of his shirt. It’s the ache in his shoulder that finally makes itself known against the backdrop of all-consuming focus Kaidou’s parted lips demand of him, and when Inui shifts to work out the strain he realizes he’s tipped himself far forward against the grip he still has on the net, that Kaidou has slid back and he has come forward until they are as much tangled in the net around them as each other. The angle leaves his arm pulled back and straining to maintain the support of his grip against the oblique force, and the tension of that is finally enough to break Inui away from Kaidou’s mouth so he can straighten himself from his forward angle and reduce the pressure against his joint. His fingers twinge as he pulls back over his knees, voicing protest of their own to the pull of the net scoring red into the lines of his fingers, and as Kaidou loosens his hand at Inui’s shirtfront to brace his elbow under himself Inui lets the bracing grip he has maintained on the net go so he can work his fingers free of the dull ache dug into them.

“Sorry,” Inui says, speaking with habitual precision in spite of the unprecedented circumstances in which he presently finds himself. “Perhaps this wasn’t the best choice of location.”

Kaidou makes a rough, wordless sound in the depths of his throat. Inui doesn’t think it’s meant to sound as much like a moan as it does, judging from the way Kaidou presses his lips together and flushes up all across his face, but the meaning is clear enough even before Kaidou jerks his head in a sharp shake. “‘S fine.” He swallows hard enough that Inui can see the flex of it in his throat. “I don’t mind.”

Inui smiles. “I wouldn’t say I  _ mind_,” he admits. His mouth is glowing with heat; he can feel every movement of his lips with perfect clarity, as if the touch of Kaidou’s against them has brought their familiar shape into sudden focus. Then again he can see the weight of his own touch set into the soft part of Kaidou’s lips, so perhaps it is a mutual experience between them. “I had planned for somewhat different circumstances.”

Kaidou’s eyebrows flicker upwards, softening the shadows already caught at his lashes to stunned heat. “You…” His gaze slides down Inui’s face, drifting away from the other’s glasses to land and linger against his mouth. Inui is very sure Kaidou has no idea how sultry his expression looks, and he’s equally certain that the touch of the other’s tongue to his lower lip is reflexive instead of intentional. “Planned, senpai?”

“Mm,” Inui hums, and reaches back out for Kaidou’s hair instead of the grip he had at the net. Kaidou’s lashes flutter heavy as Inui’s palm presses against his cheek; his lips part on an exhale even before Inui has touched his thumb to the corner of the other’s mouth. Inui’s chest tightens, his breathing catches on appreciation, but when he speaks his voice is perfectly level, even as his attention lingers against the open soft of Kaidou’s kiss-darkened lips. “I had run some calculations on my own time.”

“Oh,” Kaidou manages. “Sorry.”

Inui slides his thumb down and across, tracing the curve of Kaidou’s lower lip as he watches the breath shudder free from the other’s chest. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “This is well within my success criteria.” Kaidou huffs an exhale, a little too weak to be a laugh but more than hot enough to make an invitation, and Inui smiles and leans forward to pursue a more thorough investigation of the mouth that has held his attention for so long.


End file.
